Abel
It turns out, it isn’t a crime to almost jump off a really tall building.
But it sure as fuck isn’t something people just let you walk away from.
Where would I have even walked away to ?
While I didn’t necessarily enjoy my time living in my shitbox of a car, watching it get towed away wasn’t something I’d been prepared to face.
That car was my fucking home.
I now dub that incident as “ el principio del fin ” because hours after they took my car, I found myself getting rescued from the edge of death, with no idea how my ass got up there.
I can almost smell the cigarette smoke now as I’m sitting here, so I shake my head, keeping my eyes on the only other person truly here with me.
“I understand you are homeless.”
I don’t think it’s meant to be a question, but it kinda sounds like one. The woman in front of me stares at me and I stare at the wall behind her.
“Mr. Cartagena?” She butchers my last name like the gringa she is.
“Wasn’t sure if that was a question,” I say with a sigh, crossing my arms. At least they don’t think I’m crazy enough to be shackled or in some fucking straitjacket. That would suck.
“It was implied.”
“Was it?” I tilt my head to meet her sarcasm with my own.
She doesn’t answer, only pinches her thin ass lips together.
“ That was a question,” I whisper, not caring that I’m being an asshole. I didn’t ask to be here. I’m not a danger to anyone.
“So, you have no next of kin to call, and no home.” She’s writing things down on that notepad of hers and I like to think I can be a nice fucking guy but this maldita puta and her not-so-obvious questions are getting on my nerves.
“Sorry, but do you know when they’re gonna feed me?” I glance at the white door with its tiny window to remind me that I’m not exactly here by choice. No one stands outside the door that I can see, and I hear nothing other than the sound of her writing whatever bullshit she needs to in order to release me.
But I can still feel her, like someone’s breathing down my neck. Go away, go away, vete pal carajo . I close my eyes, squeezing them, trying to get rid of this feeling. I open them when I don’t hear the pen scratching the paper anymore.
She’s staring at me over her tiny ass glasses.
The word “spectacles” comes to mind as her eyes rove over the tattoos covering my arms and spread across my knuckles. Then she peers at the ones up my neck.
She still hasn’t answered me.
“That was also a question,” I mutter as I sag back against the chair I’m sitting in.
“I’m getting the sense that you aren’t taking this seriously. It’s unfortunate.” She places her one hand on top of the other, her pen still in her grip.
“Shit, I mean, it isn’t like I have much to say, lady. I don’t remember how I got up there. You’re wasting your time here. I’m not some crazy person.” I try not to look around the room, and I barely give this woman my eyes. I need to be in control.
Things get weird when I lose control.
“I can’t, in good faith, release you, Mr. Cartagena. Not without your cooperation,” she says as she again looks over the top of her glasses at the paperwork beside her. “You are a danger to yourself. And you may very well be a danger to the public with the stunt you pulled.”
“I’m pretty damn sure you can’t keep me here.” I scoot the chair back, almost on my feet, ready to walk right out of here, but her next words have me planting my ass right back down.
“Best you settle down before I have you sedated. If you make me feel unsafe in the least, you’ll be dragged out of here, half-conscious.” I see no signs of a lie in her words and she pins with me her stare as if to punctuate her threat.
“Ma’am,” I start, but she’s already gathering her things. “You’re really gonna waste taxpayers’ dollars over this bullshit?”
I watch as she removes her glasses with a sigh. Her fingers reach up to pinch the bridge of her nose and, after a deep breath, she regards me. “, am I the only person in the room with you right now?”
I can hardly get a fucking word out for all the sputtering I’m doing. This bitch. How? How could she…
“Unfortunately, you’ve wasted all the time I had, being a wise ass. So I have no choice but to commit you, where you can get the help you need. And I have the perfect place in mind.” With her bag in hand, she stands and heads toward the exit.
“You can’t commit me!”
She knocks on the door and a man I didn’t know was standing there opens it. “Watch me.”
I hadn’t noticed the sound of the door locking when I came in.
But that shit was loud and clear after it closed behind her, leaving me alone with cigarette smoke making my eyes water as I hear the echoes of a familiar hoarse chuckle.